


puisque tu m’aimes

by Gruoch



Category: Marvel, Spider-Gwen (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Femslash February, Gals being pals, Love Letters, a short sweet treat for Galentine’s Day, flirting via burglary, it’s what it deserves, more like enemies AND lovers, of a sort, shamelessly butchering the French language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gruoch/pseuds/Gruoch
Summary: On a Tuesday afternoon, Felicia finds a little pink heart drawn with chalk on the rooftop of a Midtown high-rise, way up where only she and the pigeons could find it.
Relationships: Felicia Hardy/Gwen Stacy
Comments: 22
Kudos: 24





	puisque tu m’aimes

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Galentine’s Day ❤️💋

_Souviens-toi, Felicia…  
...ne vole que ce qu’ils ne peuvent pas mettre sous clé…  
...prends seulement ce qu’ils ne peuvent pas reprendre…_

_...vole-leur leur coeur._

***

Remember, Felicia...  
...steal only what they cannot lock away…  
...take only what they can’t take back…

...steal their hearts.

***

Felicia has a spider problem.

It is, she will admit, partially her fault, and as occasionally irksome as she finds this problem, she feels she can’t _really_ complain. It would be like spilling sugar on the floor and refusing to clean it up, and then wondering why her apartment is infested with ants.

Her spider is an inveterate do-gooder, irresistibly attracted to the merest hint of anything mad, bad, or ugly, and Felicia…

Felicia spills a lot of sugar.

So she can’t complain when her spider problem relentlessly pursues her across the rooftops of the busy city. Maybe...maybe she even likes it, a little bit. There is something comforting about the consistency, about knowing that even if she is otherwise completely alone in the world, there will always be the spider looking out for her.

Her little shadow. Her little ghost. _Ma petite araignée._

***

On a Tuesday afternoon, Felicia finds a little pink heart drawn with chalk on the rooftop of a Midtown high-rise, way up where only she and the pigeons could find it.

She traces her finger over it, ‘round and ‘round, and lets herself pretend that it was left there for her.

***

Maybe she’s bored.

She took a break from touring after her failed attempt to avenge her father’s death. She lies in bed, instead, in her big, airy apartment, the sun stretching high in the sky and Felicia still in her silk robe, her white hair falling limp around her shoulders. Sometimes she cries and feels very sorry for herself, and other times she is filled with a rage so powerful it paralyzes her, while Matt Murdock’s smug face hovers over her mind’s eye like a demon specter, a ghoul, _le diable_ himself. She is a body haunted by so many things.

But more and more, she finds herself thinking of something else while she lies in bed. Onyx curls up on her chest and purrs like a motor while she idly fondles the velvety cones of his ears, the index finger of her free hand tracing a pattern on the satin sheets beside her.

A heart, where only she can find it.

***

Maybe she’s bored, and that’s what makes her stop and buy a crisp, dewy rose from a street vendor hawking flowers from a cart.

Felicia buys the rose, and then she walks into the Tiffany’s on Fifth Avenue. She walks back out a few minutes later, with the rose and a handful of stolen jewelry.

If you want to attract a spider in this city, you have to spill some sugar first.

Her spider takes the bait, like Felicia knew she would. Felicia leads her on a chase across Manhattan, staying just out of reach.

She leads her back to the same rooftop where Felicia had found the little chalked heart. It’s gone now, faded by rain and wind and sun, but Felicia can still imagine its invisible imprint.

She kneels down and arranges the stolen jewelry in the shape of a heart. She sets the rose in its center, and then she dashes away to the rooftop of the building across the street. 

Felicia hides there behind a noisy air conditioning unit, raptly watching as her spider touches down upon the opposite rooftop. 

Spider-Woman approaches Felicia’s offering cautiously, her head swiveling around in suspicion before she carefully picks up the rose, like she thinks it may explode in her hand. She twirls it slowly by the stem.

Felicia’s heart is racing as she watches. She wishes she could see her spider’s expression, read what she's thinking.

 _If she throws it away, I will not cry,_ Felicia vows. _I am done with tears. I will write a song, instead...la tragédie de la rose…_

But her spider doesn’t throw it away. She gathers up the stolen jewelry and the rose before swinging away, casting one last glance over her shoulder towards the rooftop of the building across the street.

But Felicia is already gone, floating over the city with her hands pressed to her heated cheeks, grinning ear-to-ear and humming _Hymne à l’amour_ under her breath.

***

Maybe she’s lonely. 

That’s the paradox of fame. She’s surrounded by people who adore her, fans who throw tokens of their love up onto the stage while she sings, who scream her name— _Felicia, we love you, Felicia, we’re yours!_ But what they love is only a cardboard cutout, an idol made of makeup and wigs and costumes.

_Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink._

Her little spider has seen her true form—Felicia the thief, Felicia the mourner, Felicia full of rage and tears, hungry for vengeance, for blood. Felicia haunted by her father’s ghost. Felicia alone against the world.

She has seen the soft, bruised, vulnerable folds inside Felicia’s heart. Is that not where love starts?

***

On Friday, her spider pursues her across the city again. Felicia races across the rooftops, flipping over the jaw-dropping chasms between buildings without an ounce of fear. She pauses on top of a roof beam to catch her breath, admiring the crystalline glint of the fat heart-shaped diamond adorning her left hand. She’s placed the stolen gem on her ring finger, like an engagement promise—a silly little girl’s amusement.

“Hey!” a voice shouts overhead. Felicia cranes her head back, grinning up at Spider-Woman, who dangles by a silken line above her. The spider jabs a finger at her. “Pretty sure that rock doesn’t belong to you.”

Felicia holds out her left hand, wiggling her fingers, teasing. “But it looks good on me, no?”

“No offense, but bigger doesn’t always mean better,” Spider-Woman replies drolly. 

She thwips out a web, but Felicia is familiar with this game by this point and she was already anticipating this play. She nimbly dodges out of the way, seizing the silk line and wrapping it around her wrist. Then she leaps from the roof, letting the silk stretch under her weight as she falls.

“Hey!” Spider-Woman shouts again, and Felicia laughs aloud at how angry and surprised she sounds. She swipes at the silk with her free hand, her claws severing it with ease. She drops down onto another rooftop below, turning a somersault to cushion her fall and then springing right back up and racing away.

She chances a glance over her shoulder. Spider-Woman is hot on her heels, her lithe little body twisting elegantly as she soars between buildings on silken webs.

Felicia grins wider, leaping over a rooftop generator and then sliding down the railings of a fire escape ladder. She drops down into a dark alleyway and comes to an abrupt stop, pressing her back against the wall and waiting there, her heart pounding and her chest heaving with exertion and anticipation.

Maybe she’s lonely, and that’s why she does it.

Felicia has had many admirers—the richest men, the most beautiful women. They flit into and then back out of her life like the summer winking of a firefly. She forgets their names, their faces, why she ever was attracted to them in the first place.

Maybe that’s where her affection for her little spider comes from—no one else has ever pursued her so ardently. Her little spider keeps coming back, even when Felicia betrays her, even when things get downright nasty between them, and Felicia has no choice but to use her claws. 

_C'est magnifique être sympathique, mais je n'le connais jamais._

And yet…

Spider-Woman drops down into the alley in front of Felicia, her back turned to her.

“Hey,” Felicia calls, stepping forward.

Her spider spins around to face her. Felicia takes another step closer, until they stand nose-to-nose. She grabs Spider-Woman’s hand and tugs her even nearer.

“What are you--” her spider starts, but Felicia cuts her off with a kiss, slipping the stolen ring onto Spider-Woman’s finger as she does.

Felicia steps back, grinning again.

“Hey,” Spider-Woman says, softer, sounding breathless and confused and a little unsteady this time.

But Felicia is already gone once more, darting out into the busy street beyond the mouth of the alley and getting lost in the traffic and clouds of exhaust. 

She eventually makes her way back up to the rooftops, her heart still racing. She stands alone above the city, tracing her lips with the tips of her fingers, where the ghost of the kiss lingers. She doesn’t even mind losing the ring. Felicia has plenty of diamonds at home, bigger and more exquisite than the one she stole.

She’d rather steal kisses than gems, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I live for comments. You can also find me on tumblr as [groo-ock](https://groo-ock.tumblr.com)


End file.
